


My Father's Daughter

by aliasmajik



Series: The Destined Ones [3]
Category: Sailor Moon - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Father/Daughter Bonding, Gen, meddling father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliasmajik/pseuds/aliasmajik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ami has found a comfortable routine in visiting with her father over coffee once a week or so; when he asks her out to dinner to meet a friend of his, how can she refuse him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Father's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> I have a certain fondness for the senshi and their family dynamics. Ami and her father in particular.

Ami was a creature of habit. Through long years of schooling, and now in her last years of her residency, she had relied upon that very routine to get her through grueling hours, incredible course loads, and the very little sleep she'd had in years. One such aspect of that routine would likely have surprised many; it had even surprised her mother when she'd finally confessed to these secretive little meetings. Ami was meeting her father over coffee.

The first invitation had surprised her. A number rarely used had popped up on her cellphone, her father's. Assuming the worst, she'd ducked into an alcove and answered. It had been a simple invitation to coffee. The second had come several weeks later. Then they had fallen into a comfortable routine. Once every week or so, they would meet at the little coffee shop near his studio apartment and talk. Sometimes it was about books, sometimes about life, but they always kept the conversation mild and friendly. Two old friends, hardly father and daughter.

It was three years ago that he'd confessed that he had been diagnosed with rhuematoid arthritis. On good days, he could still paint, but of late he had little luck in that. Ami was concerned for him, and had set him up with good doctors, associates and professors of hers, but there was little hope to do more than slow the progress. 

Ami settled into hard backed chair at the cafe, her unsweetened latte steaming in the tall mug she'd already settled on the table. The wood was aged and worn, but well polished. Her father hadn't arrived just yet, but Ami was glad for the momentary reprieve from responsibility. She produced a book well worn around the edges, with dog eared pages; an old favorite. She hadn't the opportunity to open it before she heard the bell above the door chime, and she looked up to see her father appear.

She smiled a greeting as he moved to the counter and ordered his usual, some concoction as intricate as it was sweet. She'd tried a sip once, and never again. When he did finally join her, it was with a kiss to her cheek. The scent of paint thinner reached her nose, and she was pleased by it. Perhaps he'd been painting today, which would put him in a pleasant mood.

"Hello, darling. How are you?" He asked as he settled in. They exchanged pleasantries. Her work. His work. The espresso was drunk, until Ami pushed her cup aside.

"Any prospects, Ami?" he asked with a sly eye. He asked at least once a week, and still she flushed. 

"No, I think not." She shifted, as if collecting her things, but he caught her small hand in his own. It stabbed her heart when she looked down at his hands, swollen and twisted from what they'd once been. Her throat tightened.

"Ami, please... will you join me and a friend of mine for dinner? Tonight?" She opened her mouth to decline, but he knew that she had the next three days off from the hospital. She had no excuse.

"Ah, yes. Of course, father." 

Hours later, she was fidgeting with the hem of the dress she'd chosen, very much regretting this. The restaurant was one of those boho chic sort of places; upscale without taking itself too seriously. She'd never eaten here before. She entered alone, but the hostess seemed to know who she was with. She was directed into a quiet back area. It was earlier in the evening than the dinner rush, so the back room was largely empty. 

Her father rose when he spotted her, and the man with him did as well. The man who was a great deal younger than Ami had expected for someone her father had styled as a friend. A shock of long blonde hair, tied back from his face into a low ponytail (an affectation? he looked Japanese in the face). Despite that, he didn't have a starving artist vibe about him, but rather a more intellectual air. 

"Ah, Ami, darling, I'm glad you've made it! Here, come meet my friend. Mori Daichi." She extended a hand, and the man, this Mori Daichi, took it and bowed gallantly over it. Ami thought the gesture odd, but still, her face colored gently. The three of them all settled in, Daichi seeing to Ami before settling himself.

"Ami, Daichi here is an architect. Somewhat of a celebrity himself lately." The blonde man smiled, clearly somewhat embarrassed at that.

"Hiroto, please. My popularity is fleeting at best." he shook his head, but reached for the bottle of wine chilling aside the table. "For you, Miss Mizuno?" She inclined her head, and he poured her a splash of white wine. "Your father greatly overestimates my fame. I've designed homes for a few members of parliament, and a popular actress and her husband. Not much more." He drank of his own wine, while Ami admired his profile. Handsome, she admitted silently.

"Ah, yes, but that's just the beginning of a promising career!" Hiroto laughed and clapped the younger man on his shoulder. They drank, ordered far too much food, and laughed. Ami found herself enjoying the evening more than she might have thought she would.

When they stood outside the restaurant at the end of the evening, Ami found herself yawning. 

"Oh, Miss Mizuno, you must let me see you home." Daichi spoke up. Ami smiled, but shook her head slightly.

"Oh no. I'll just catch the bus. It lets off not far from my apartment." 

"To the bus stop, at least, then?" 

Hiroto took this moment to dismiss himself, sparkly eyed and promising to call Ami within the week. Daichi and Ami made their way down the street, chatting lightly, but mostly quiet. Ami couldn't help but stealing casual glances out of the corner of her eye. Mori Daichi really was quite handsome. 

"This is my stop." she spoke up, pausing. She looked up at him, hands clasped demurely in front of her. "Thank you. It was lovely to meet you tonight, Mr. Mori."

"And you, Miss Mizuno." Daring, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Good evening."

Her bus arrived, and in the confusion, he was gone. Ami had the distinct feeling that this had happened before, but she couldn't for the life of her imagine when.

**Author's Note:**

> Mori Daichi is written surname then given name, for clarity.


End file.
